In the Court of the Tranny Queen
by Marrrrrrr
Summary: A reimagining of season two, where Britta and Annie are the ones having secret sex. A continuation of Reign of the Tranny Queen.


_A/N: This story was written for a prompt provided by explodinganyway (whose pen name here is ). I lost the original prompt because of tumblr's dumb ask box system. This is also a sequel to Reign of the Tranny Queen, in case the title didn't make that clear._

The rest of the group was too tired after an evening wasted building a stupid, pointless diorama for Professor Duncan's Anthropology class to notice that Annie and Britta headed out of the library in the same direction. That in and in itself wasn't that unusual; only Abed, if he'd thought to think of it, would have found it suspicious that two women who lived in opposite directions of the campus would park in the same parking lot. But he didn't, and even in his subconscious didn't add it on to the building flood of realization that would burst on him later on in the year about what was going on between his two friends.

Even Troy, though, probably would have raised an eyebrow if he'd seen them both get into Annie's rusty old Honda.

Annie Edison wasn't concerned about that as she fastened her seatbelt, though. She was much more concerned about what was going on in the head of the woman in her passenger seat.

She'd been acting… distant. In a way that went beyond the way they acted around each other, now, when the rest of the group was around. That was just discretion. It was a necessity, unless they wanted to deal with Shirley's judgment or Pierce's condescension or whatever Jeff would end up taking away from this whole thing.

That was not brushing her hand along the small of Britta's back as she painted in the black fur of the Australopithecus, not feeling the warmth of her flesh through the soft wool of her flannel shirt as the blonde flicked the brush with practiced skill. It was trying not to catch her eye during those little lulls in the day, or, if she couldn't resist, to at least try not to get lost in her gaze for too long.

It wasn't being _rude_. It wasn't trying to pick little fights, trying to get under her skin throughout the day. It wasn't flat out pretending she wasn't there. Even now, when they were alone, driving to _her _stupid apartment, Britta was just staring out the window. Annie had almost pulled out of the Greendale parking lot and she still hadn't said _anything_.

"Is anything wrong?" Annie asked, in a careful, controlled way.

"Why would anything be wrong?" Britta asked in return, her tone icier than the glacier Troy had made for their diorama. A lot icier, actually, since that had just been Papier-mâché. Annie exhaled, frustrated. If that's how she wanted it…

"Alright," Annie said. They were silent for the rest of the drive.

The day had started out so well, too. They'd finally started their fundraiser for the BP oil spill, and it had been a really big hit. People had gathered around in the center of the quad to see their diorama. The one just she and Britta had made together, over nights of Rom Coms (Annie's choice) and Thai food takeout (Britta's). The one Annie had decided to make when she saw Britta crying over a photo of a pelican, covered in a toxic mix of oil and mud. The reddish brown muck coated the poor animals feathers, and it was crumpled, pathetically, in a small heap on the shore.

"The poor little birdy!" she'd said, sobbing. "It's just _stuck_ there."

Annie had thought raising almost $500 dollars in one day would have helped. In fact, the mental image of Britta, cradling that poor bird in her arms and beaming, had helped keep her bright and chipper through the hours they'd spent shilling for donations.

But Britta hadn't acted happy about the total. At first, when she'd just been quiet and slightly sullen, Annie had just assumed that she'd felt bad about not raising nearly as much as her. But as her sort-of-kind-of-but-she-doesn't-like-labels girlfriend had grown less and less passive in her aggression she'd come to think that that explanation wasn't enough.

Annie was still fuming as they pulled up in front of Britta's apartment. She pulled her car into an open spot and parked.

"Do you even want me to come up?" she asked, not bothering to hide the anger anymore.

"I don't know. Do you want to come up?" Britta was staring out the windshield, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Yes!" Annie shouted, feeling her face redden. "I want us to go up there and tear and tear each other's clothes off, and then I want to touch you and kiss you and taste you and do all the other things to you that I've wanted to do _all day_! And I want to do them until all this stupid awkward energy you keep putting out goes back to wherever the hell it came from! Until we can just be _together_ again."

Britta stared. She looked a little shocked at her outburst. But it was brief, and small, and then the frown was back.

"All right," she answered, setting her jar and nodding. "You'd better come up then."

#

The door to the apartment slammed behind them. Annie's fingers were quick and nimble as they danced down Britta's shirt, unbuttoning each button as the other woman forced her backwards. She heard a cat jump up, skittering out of their way. Her heart beat lightning quick in her chest, and she already felt the desire starting to drip out of her. She pushed the flannel shirt and leather jacket together off Britta's shoulders just as her foot caught the edge of the bed.

Annie's back hit the mattress with a _squeak_ of shifting bedsprings and Britta pursued her, capturing her hands above her head as she pressed her into the cotton sheets. The blonde attacked the nape of her neck, kissing it as Annie bucked and struggled under her, trying to dislodge her, to get back some measure of control of this situation. She was the one who was supposed to be angry here, darn it! But it was no use; she was at Britta's mercy, here on her back. She wondered, briefly, if she'd made a mistake in strategy trading space for clothes so brazenly in their grapple on their way into the apartment. Then Britta straightened, lifting her upper body away, and the way the moonlight hit the pale skin of her smooth, naked breasts made them appear almost luminous made Annie realize that was a stupid question.

"I caught you," Britta said. Annie's eyes flitted up to her face. She was grinning down at her, and there was a feral gleam in her eye.

"Did you?" Annie asked, lifting her hips again, but slower, more gently, no longer trying to escape. She _ached_ so much it almost hurt but if she twisted in just the right way she could scrape herself against Britta in a way that might almost come close to satisfying her if it weren't for the layers of clothing separating their flesh. "What are you going to do with me?"

"I wonder what all those men you were flirting with today would do, if they had you like this," Britta continued, not answering her question.

"Flirting- what?" Annie said, blinking rapidly, a little bit of the huskiness leaving her voice. But then Britta's knee slid into the crotch of her panties with a light but unyielding pressure and she gasped.

"Oh come on." Britta grabbed both Annie's wrists in one hand, running the other down her body to caress and squeeze her breast through her cardigan. "You know they fantasized about it, when they were giving you that money today. About how much it would take for them to buy you. To be able to have you at their mercy like this. To be able to touch you, anyway they wanted." The hand ran under her shirt and Annie arched her back, pressing herself into Britta's touch. "To hear you beg and moan."

"I didn't-" she breathed, "I don't know what- God, Britta don't stop." She bucked harder under her, gasping. Annie couldn't process what Britta was saying, not when the red hot need was welling up in her like this.

"Tell me," Britta said. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"T-touch me…" Annie's cheeks reddened, and she turned her head, looking away. Britta had never made her spell it out like this before; usually she just… did it. And Annie had… reciprocated in kind, of course. She was a bright girl. She'd like to flatter herself by thinking she'd been a quick study. But there hadn't been a lot of _verbal_ discussion about any of it.

"Where?" She asked, whispering right into her ear now. "Where do you want me to touch you?" Verbal specification. That was also new. Annie couldn't do much to respond beyond moaning.

Britta released her wrists and Annie's arms slid slowly apart to hang limply above her head. "Is it here?" Britta asked, pulling her other hand out from under Annie's blouse so she could unbutton it, pulling it open. "Is it these?" Fingers traced the swell of her bosom, their touch light as a feather, and Annie's voice hitched in her throat.

"M-my breasts?" Annie asked, squeaking, as Britta pulled her bra off. She felt the tips of her thumbs tease the edges of her areola. "My –oh– my ni-hhhi-pples." She gasped as Britta flicked them.

"No… I think it's lower, isn't it?" Britta said, running a hand down the right side of her body, her fingers grazing across her ribs along the way. Annie's eyes fluttered shut as Britta reached under her skirt to rub at her inner thigh. "I think it's this, right? It's so warm under here, and you're quaking and shivering so much, Annie." She gasped as fingers tickled at her opening through her panties. "And you're so wet!" Britta kissed her cheek. "Where do you want me to touch you, Annie?" she asked again.

"M-my v-vagina," Annie said. She felt Britta's hand on her cheek and she turned, her eyes blinking half-open.

"Your cunt," Britta corrected. "I want you to call it that. Say it that way. Cunt."

Annie took a deep breath, letting it out with a shudder. "My cunt," she said, not stuttering at all. She felt proud of herself.

Britta smiled, pressing into the crotch of her panties, pushing at her lips through the cotton. Annie gasped, all composure lost, and the smile broadened into a grin. And then Britta was leaning forward, kissing her, swallowing Annie's cry of pleasure into a whimper before it had even left her throat.

The kiss gave her something to latch onto. Kissing was familiar. They'd managed to murder all the confusion and awkwardness out of that one through simple repetition. It was kissing after last year's Tranny Dance that had started this whole thing; it had been spontaneous, and crazy, and for the first half of this last summer had been the event Annie had regretted the most in her entire life, even more than getting hooked on Adderall.

And then in the second half of the summer, after Britta had turned up on her doorstep late one night, mascara streaming down her face, blubbering about how she was sorry and that she was the worst and the most awful and she was going to leave Annie alone forever if she would just give her a chance to _apologize_ for taking advantage of her, it had become even more familiar. They'd done it. A lot. They'd moved on to other things too, eventually, but between that and all her practice with Vaughn, Annie considered herself something of an expert at it by now.

So it was with no small amount of pride that Annie the noted the flush on the blonde's cheeks as she pulled away. The redness didn't add any embarrassment to Britta's visage, though; if anything it made the gleam in her eye and the crook of her brow appear more feral than ever. Annie squirmed against Britta's hand, and licked her lips.

And tasted something familiar. She frowned. Realization hit her. _So that's where that tube went_, she thought.

"Did you go through my purse again?" she asked.

Britta's grin faltered. "Huh?"

"I told you to ask first!" Annie said, her tone half-chiding, half teasing, and she slapped Britta lightly on the hand. The blonde looked nonplussed. "You taste like my lip balm," she explained.

Britta's eyes widened in understanding. Then the grin crept back onto her face. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" Then she was a flurry of motion, sliding down the bed, yanking Annie's soaked panties off her legs as she squirmed, excitement flaring up in her core again. Britta's hands came around under her legs to grip each thigh, holding her tight. Spreading her open. Then she licked, hard and slow, bottom to top, pressing her tongue into her folds and dragging them up along with it. Annie yelped, bucking against her face as a feeling of pure electricity arced from the path of her tongue directly up her spine, lighting up every nerve in its way. Her thighs twitched, helplessly, and her eyes rolled back in her head. She clenched, hard as Britta caressed the little nub at the top of her opening.

Annie panted, recovering. Then Britta did it again, slightly faster, and Annie was a little more vocal in her appreciation. The third time she cried out again. Then she grabbed the sheets around her, clawing at them helplessly as Britta clung to her tighter. Then she arched, her back fully leaving the bed before she crashed back down. The strokes came too quick to separate after that, and Annie began to work her hips along in time to them, gyrating against Britta's mouth. She squealed, crying out as the blonde kissed and licked and nibbled at her.

"So sensitive…" Britta murmured, rubbing at her clit. She took Annie's delicate little lips into her mouth, sucking on them as she stared up at her from between her legs. The sound was wet, and loud, and Annie loved it. She held Britta's gaze, even as she felt her mouth go wide, ecstasy spiking through her like a thunder bolt. But it lingered, sinking into her, and she screamed Britta's name as she shook violently, almost breaking out of the blonde's hold. But she held on, and through the white, prickling haze filling her vision Annie could see the triumph in her face as she drank in her orgasm, her tongue and mouth twisting and flicking at her pearl.

Annie wasn't entirely sure what happened after that. It was all heat and light, exploding over and inside her, swallowing her up. The next thing she knew, Britta's lips were on hers, and her tongue was in her mouth, and they were kissing again.

Annie didn't taste bubblegum, anymore.

They broke away, and her arms tightened around her lover's waist and she breathed deep, burying her nose in her blond hair. The thumping of her heart still reverberated through her chest, but it pumped contentment and tranquility through her veins instead of raw adrenaline now.

"Do you think any of those boys could do that to you?" Britta asked, as her lips grazed Annie's clavicles. The brunette frowned, blinking. Is that what really had her so upset? _Fundraising?_ It seemed so silly, so minor, but there had been a possessiveness, an almost desperation, in the way she'd been made love to tonight that wasn't normally there. So she pushed Britta onto her back, rolling over on top of her at the same time that she reached into the small nightstand next to the bed.

She'd learned where Britta kept her vibrator a long time ago.

"Is that what you think?" Annie said, answering Britta's question with a question as her fingers undid the button of her jeans. She kissed her, gently, on the cheek. "That I was thinking about them, today on the quad?" Her fingers found moisture as they rubbed along the cotton of Britta's panties. "I wasn't. I was thousands of miles away. With you."

Britta scowled and looked away. The move exposed her neck, and Annie took advantage, kissing it. She could feel the blonde's heart pounding through her lips.

"You and me, down there in Louisiana, working in the muck. Trying our best to undo all the damage greed and selfishness had caused." She pulled Britta's jeans down to her knees, pushed her panties out of the way. "I thought about it the entire time. I wanted to go there with you. I knew I never would, knew I didn't have it in me to be that spontaneous. To just drop everything and go with what I felt. So I daydreamed."

"Annie…" Britta gasped as her fingers beckoned inside her. Annie shushed her, setting the vibrator on the lowest setting and rubbing it slowly up and down her inner thighs. She nuzzled her neck again.

"I do that a lot. Daydream about you. Things I want us to do. The future we might share. And it's so hard, doing that sometimes, when I'm trying as much as I can not to slip up and give the others something to gossip about. And I can never tell you about it, because I know, Britta, how much it would scare you. How much I'm scaring you right now, telling you this." She could feel the blonde's heart beating, thudding in her chest, as their breasts pressed together. Annie teased at her clitoris with the sex toy, turning up its motor. "And so I keep them to myself, my little daydreams, so I wouldn't make you feel uncomfortable. But sometimes uncomfortable feels good. Sometimes the resistance can be sweet and torturous at the same time, can bathe you in pleasure even as it rubs you raw.

"Like when I said cunt." Britta cried out again as the vibrator slipped inside of her, displacing Annie's fingers which began to pluck and twist at her clit. She smiled. "Yeah, I know you really liked it when you made me do that. So you owe me. You're going to listen to me, now. I love you, Britta Perry. I want you all the time. I want your scent in my nostrils and your taste on my tongue and I want to feel your skin against mine. And I want it always."

"C-can't…" Britta managed. She was shaking, trembling all over. Annie shifted, turning onto her side and cradling the blonde in her arms. She could work the dildo into her faster from this angle.

"Why not?" Annie asked, turning her head, making eye contact again. Britta's pupils were tiny little black dots in an ocean of blue. "Why can't you, Britta?"

"C-Cause," she said, squeezing her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm bad. I'm no good, Annie. Tried to tell you. Tried to run away. Didn't work. I'm selfish. I couldn't stay away from you. I'm bad. I'm a bad person. I'm a bad person." Her voice became higher, shriller as she spasmed, cumming. Annie squeezed her tightly in her arms.

"No you aren't," she whispered, over and over. "You aren't. You're mine."

#

They lay in Britta's bed for a while, spooning. Annie ran her fingers through Britta's hair, feeling her chest rise and fall as she struggled to recover.

"Don't go," Britta whispered, finally.

"What?" Annie asked, kissing the back of her neck.

"Tomorrow. Don't go. I want you to stay, for the weekend."

Annie smiled. "Okay."


End file.
